Life on the Murder Scene
by amianfan102
Summary: A sequel to I Never Told You What I Do For a Living... Did you guys wonder how Amy met Vikram? Or maybe what Dan did after the end of the story? How about the secret love affair between Arthur and Hope? Perhaps even what awaited Ian and Amy after the end of the story? Well, now here's your chance to find out...
1. Thank You For The Venom

**Life on the Murder Scene**

**Chapter One**

**Amy Trent's POV**

Amy browsed through the books on the shelves carefully, quick innocent eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of one of her favorites. Since moving to England without the luxury of her book shelf back in America, she had taken to scaling the shelves of the local book stores in hopes of finding something suitable for her. The local shelter she was staying in until she could find a job didn't exactly provide entertainment.

She didn't mind. For the most part she worked out and swam at the local gyms, walked around the city, crashed parties, snuck into concerts and vandalised the buildings in the back streets of London. More than one warehouse had her initials and drawings spray painted onto them.

With a sigh, Amy conceded to the fact that she was never going to find a decent copy of any of the books in the Harry Potter series nearby, and stood from her crouched position. As she left the shop, she waved good-bye to the store owner, who was one of the few people around who she could stand.

"Might as well hit the local music shop," Amy muttered to herself, catching sight of a display rack.

They had a stand full of books on famous celebrities such as Madonna and Train and the like. She made a face to herself and thought, _Wow, could they at least advertise decent music?_

With a defiant glare at the young boy who was scurrying around the door with his sister, Amy pushed the door open and stepped into the slightly dreary looking streets of London. As she looked up to see if she could spot the sun from behind the gray clouds, she ran right into someone.

She yelped in surprise, nearly dropping her iPod onto the street, and fell backwards right into the door she had just come out of. With as much grace as a bear doing ballet, Amy tumbled onto the sidewalk and face-planted into her own arms.

For a second she just stood there, her face bright with embarrassment as she buried it in black sweatshirt and prayed to god that whoever had run into her wasn't a cute guy her age. Coughing, Amy raised her head and saw a pair of shiny dress shoes standing in front of her.

"Are you alright, dear?" asked a kind voice who, obviously, had a British accent.

Sheepishly, Amy sat back and looked up at the man who had spoken and was now offering a hand to her. He was tall with dark skin (Not African-American, but as if he was possibly Greek) and sharp, brown eyes that glinted kindly. He was older than Amy, about as old as her parents would have been if her mother was alive and her dad hadn't been an utter psychopath, and something about him seemed vaguely mysterious. She supposed that it had to do with the Agent 007 look to him from the impeccably tailored suit and expensive shoes, though he wore the aura that only people with secret agendas do.

"I'm fine," Amy said, standing up and brushing herself off. "I'm sorry for running into you."

"Think nothing of it," the man replied kindly, smiling. "I don't mean to be so forward, but is your name Amy Trent?"

Startled, Amy did a double take.

The man then laughed and said, "I'm sorry, my name is Vikram Cahill," - Amy thought the name sounded vaguely familiar - "and I was just asking because the woman who runs the shop was telling me all about how you have a very good taste in literature."

"Oh," Amy mumbled. "In that case, yeah, my name is Amy Trent."

"Nice meeting you, Amy Trent," Vikram said happily before checking his watch - diamond encrusted - and exclaiming, "Oh, no, I was supposed to be at a meeting ten minutes ago. I guess the books will have to wait."

"Bye," Amy said, waving as he began to walk away, a disappointed look on his face.

"Good-bye!" Vikram said, tipping his head towards her in acknowledgement.

**~lovelovelove~**

Less than two days later, Amy was back at the bookstore, hoping to find a new read for herself. She wanted something that would take a good, long time to finish - preferably over a thousand pages. Being new to the country and barely of age, she had far too much time on her hands.

She looked over the shelves again, drifting closer to the murder mysteries. Okay, so maybe she wouldn't find the thousand page book she was looking for, but it had been a long time since she had read any good mystery books. As she thumbed through a copy of _The DaVinci Code_ she bumped her back into someone standing behind her.

"Oops, sorry - Vikram!" Amy exclaimed in surprise, stunned to see the man she had run into again.

"Do you make it a habit of yours to run into people?" he chuckled, looking at the book in her hands. "Ah, that's a good book. I'd definitely recommend it."

Amy tucked away this bit of information and put the book in the shelf. "Sorry, I'm not normally so clumsy. Maybe it's all the tea I've been drinking recently."

Vikram laughed. "Oh yes, us English-folk and our tea. How very stereotypical of you."

Amy blushed and stumbled over her next words. "I d-didn't mean it like - "

"I know, I'm joking," Vikram assured, still smiling. "What is the text-book for?"

Amy glanced at the large psychology book in her arms and shrugged. "I dropped out of college in the states and decided I'd try my hand at Psychology."

Vikram nodded. "It's a fascinating subject. Have you ever considered doing something more physical though?"

"Like what?" Amy questioned. "Like being a sports athlete? No, not really. I enjoy activity but I'm fairly uncoordinated. I would have struck you more for the poetic type, by the way."

Vikram nodded again. "I see. Actually, I'm not much of a poet but a criminal, Well, if you ever need a job, give me a call." He flipped his wallet open and removed and jet black business card with the words, _Vikram A. Cahill. Please call: 123-456-7891._

Amy looked up with a question lingering on her tongue about the criminal statement, only to find that Vikram was no longer there. With a sweep of her eyes around the shop, Amy shrugged and tucked the book under her arm while dropping the text-book on the shelf. She purchased _The DaVinci Code _and then left, unsure of where to go next.

**~lovelovelove~**

Fate seemed to have decided that Amy was destined to work with Vikram, she thought, as she ran into him for the third time at the book store. Thankfully it was not literal this time, for he managed to spot her coming in before she could trip up and make a fool of herself again.

They struck up a conversation about classical music for a good half an hour before Vikram had to leave in order to catch the train. Or, as he called it, the tube.

Amy was ashamed to say that she had giggled immaturely at the word. However, as Vikram left, she was suddenly upset. It occurred to her that she had never been sad to see an adult leave before. Especially one that was a total stranger.

**~lovelovelove~**

The day after the discussion about music, Vikram didn't show up. Amy shrugged indifferently and tried to act as though she hadn't been waiting for the man.

**~lovelovelove~**

After the day that Vikram didn't show, there was a vicious rainstorm that completely flooded the streets near where she lived. Sadly, Amy didn't have the resources to walk all the way to the book store in the rain, and instead entered the local library, hoping to catch up on some reading. _The DaVinci Code _had been a wonderful and exciting read, although it had been over much too quickly.

Amy surprised herself by instead listening to her music from her headphones while surfing the web for any sign of Vikram Cahill.

She found not a single mention of him.

**~lovelovelove~**

Two days after the rainstorm, Amy was back at the book store on a sunny day, looking through books on sale. She saw a few classics that she hadn't read before and picked up _The Catcher In The Rye_ with a flourish.

There was a sudden "ding!" of the door opening as Amy paid for her book, thanking the woman who worked there. A tap on her shoulder alerted her of someone and she turned without thinking.

There stood Vikram as dressy as always, and a smile on his face. "Hello, Amy. Do you still need a job?"

Amy nodded hesitantly and Vikram beamed.

"Good, good. Shall you come by my house around eight o'clock tomorrow?" he asked, writing an address on a piece of paper from the check out desk.

"What is it exactly that I'll be doing?" Amy asked, more than a little confused.

Vikram just smiled slyly and said, "It's a secret."

And then he was gone with a wave of his hand and the chiming door's soft sound.

**~lovelovelove~**

Amy supposed that most women her age would not have gone over to Vikram's house - a mere stranger - on the outskirts of London in hopes of getting a job.

However, Amy Trent was not most people, and a risk taker. She hadn't always been, but the anger of her father being revealed as an assassin on a mission to murder her mother had tipped her over the edge. She was filled with pent-up anger and nearly fifteen years of karate lessons to air her in life.

She assumed that she could handle this.

As she rang the doorbell of the immense mansion, she was suddenly struck with the thought that she had not come dressed in clothes suitably for a job interview. All thoughts were banished immediately as the door was pulled open by an annoyed looking butler in a suit and tie.

"May I take your jacket, Miss Trent?" he asked, gesturing to her thin, black Avenged Sevenfold hoodie.

Amy shook her head and bunched the sleeves around her hands, happy to have the well-worn jacket on for comfort. The mansion was large and imposing looking, and Amy wanted to feel as comfortable and not-awkward as possible.

"You came!" Vikram suddenly called as he came walking down the grand stare case that came from the side of the entrance hall. "Why don't you come to the living room with me and Harold here can get us some tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

"Tea is fine," Amy said politely, following Vikram deeper into the house. The living room was on the second floor overlooking the city, made of dark wood and extravagant maroon accents with cushy chintz chairs by a looming fireplace.

"Beautiful house," Amy said honestly, taking a seat carefully on the edge of one of the chairs across from Vikram. "So about this job..." She trailed off.

"Yes?" Vikram asked, stirring his tea.

"What do I need to know for and about it?" she questioned.

Vikram smirked and put down the cup on the small table in the center of them. He leaned forward as though about to share something of extreme seriousness and whispered, "All you need to remember is that what I'm about to tell you is a secret.

**This is the first chapter of this new fic which is basically an extension of smaller stories that all connect back to I Never Told You What I Do For a Living. Kind of like a sequel! ;D Thanks for reading and reviewing! **

**BTW, following the theme of the name of INTYWIDFAL (dang, that takes forever to write out *sweatdrop*) all chapters will be named after a song. :)**

**~Dani **


	2. Dead!

**Life On the Murder Scene**

**Chapter Two**

**Dan Trent's POV**

Dan couldn't feel anything except unbelievable pain as he gazed down at the black casket that was being lowered into the ground of the cemetary, a bundle of roses piled on top of it. Around him, his colleagues were all either teary eyed or openly crying like Ned, as well as his ex-au pair Nellie, who had flown out for the funeral.

Dan knew that Amy Trent lay in that black casket in a green dress, the bullet wound in the back of her skull all sewn up shut, like she was a perfect angel. Considering how everyone was acting, (minus Nellie, she didn't know about Amy's rather dodgy background) he never would have guessed that Amy had once been a trained assassin. Oh no, her perfectly made up face and manicured hands screamed pure innocence.

And Dan was _disgusted_.

Sure, he had been devastated at first, when he had seen the life fade out of his only sister's eyes. They had only just been reunited an hour or so before, to have her yanked from his embrace and into the cruel grip of death.

After the sadness had come a grim anger for Vikram, which shockingly, passed within hours. Naturally, he'd always hate the man with a passion, but nothing close to how he felt for certain other people.

Dan was also terribly upset for Ian, his very close friend he'd come to know in the past years. However, his sadness didn't even come close to the level of anger he had for Amy.

She was his sister, of course, but she had been a murderer and a slave to Vikram Kabra. She'd killed more than fifty people as far as they knew (and who knew, perhaps there were more that they hadn't heard of) and had seduced Ian into becoming more accessible to her. Sure, maybe they had fallen in love along the way, but that didn't make up for anything. Because of Amy, Ian was dead. If it hadn't been for her, none of this ever would have happened.

So the fact that everyone was thinking of Amy as a fallen angel angered Dan like no one could imagine. But to his relief, however, their tears shed today were nothing compared to that of the tears they had shed during Ian's funeral the day before. Still, he hated it.

Was it so wrong to be relieved his sister was dead? Dan supposed that it was - the Bible said "love thy family" or some crap like that - but he couldn't help it. Now that she was gone, fewer people would be murdered in cold blood. No one on Vikram's so-called list would be affected. Because she was dead.

Dead. Dan had been having nightmares in the days since her and Ian's death that she came back to life to torment him, to make him pay for feeling relieved about her death. He'd wake up screaming in his bedroom in Boston, terrified that it was about to come true. And Dan hadn't had nightmares since he was thirteen.

Being a prodigy with a memory that no one could beat had its perks, but right now, all it was doing to his sanity was shredding it down to a fine powder. As in nearly nonexistent and gone with a breath of wind. He would never be able to "un-see" his insane sister falling to the ground as a spurt of blood sprang into the air like fireworks.

Dan would never forget the light fading out of her green eyes as she stared at him, a pained expression on her face. He would never be able to get rid of the way her blood soaked into the grass and stained her hair and his shirt as he held her. He'd never be able to throw away the images of her last breath as she looked into his eyes.

All Dan wanted to do was to forget. But that wasn't going to happen, and he didn't want to push his luck by praying to some god he didn't really believe in.

Sometimes, since she and Ian had died, he wondered where they were. Was there really a heaven? A hell? If so, would Amy's sins be spared or would she be thrown into the clutches of the devil? Where was Ian? Was he lounging on a cloud with angel wings as he laughed at the sinners down below? Was there even a god? Did there need to be a god for there to be heaven? Or hell? What if earth was their heaven and hell was what they got afterwards, regardless of the life they lived?

He occasionally gave himself headaches from thinking in circles. As the last shovel of dirt was tossed onto the grave, Dan felt a whisper of satisfaction in his ear.

_You're happy I died, aren't you? _Amy seemed to asked, her voice as sweet as honey.

Instead of ignoring it or waving it off as he might have before, Dan simply smirked and thought back viciously, _If you get to heaven, I'll be here waiting. Did you get what you deserve? _

**Voila! Chapter Two. These obviously won't go in timeline order, as the next one is going to have to do with Amy and Ian. :P **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **

**~Dani **


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